


I Used to Know a Girl

by niikolatesla



Category: The Young Ones (TV 1982)
Genre: (very brief mention of rivyan), Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Gen, Heavy Angst, Minor Character Death, Neglect, Post-Canon, may be triggering, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5759215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niikolatesla/pseuds/niikolatesla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The year is 1986. Vyvyan has been trying to reform a relationship with his mum, but when the time comes to bring up the most tumultuous event in their shared past, there's no telling where they can go from there.</p><p>Inspired mainly by an RP between me and Marvels_Bitch, but also inspired by "Veronica" by Elvis Costello.</p><p>This does have depictions of incredible neglect and what the consequences of that are, so please, bare in mind that if you have a past that involves neglect or emotional abuse, or just abuse in general, this may be tough to get through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Used to Know a Girl

Vyvyan was a dangerous man- anybody could tell you that. But Vyvyan’s most dangerous quality didn’t lie in his physicality, his fighting, or his yelling. He had hope. He lost it once, but after years without it, he would never lose it again. He would make sure people who took it away were cut out of his life. Hope was dangerous, but Vyvyan let it thrive in him. It was this same hope that had sent him down to the Kebab and Calculator every Thursday around lunchtime for the past two months. 

It was the hope that maybe he could rebuild some sort of relationship with his mother. Afternoons were never busy on Thursdays. Crowds only really came in for the evenings. His mum was always behind the bar, usually cleaning. Vyvyan would always order a pint and never finish it, and they would just talk. They had a lot to catch up on. They’d do that until the crowds started filing in, and for the first month, Vyvyan would always pay, tip extra, and leave to do it again the next Thursday. But one day, his mum told him he didn’t need to pay for beer he didn’t finish. Vyvyan would always smile. It was her own little way of being the mother he needed before he was put into foster care. The fact that she was even trying to be a mother meant a lot. It was a small effort on her part, but she was still trying. 

However, the day came when a hard subject had to be brought up. It was the only time Vyvyan ever finished his pint, and his mum noticed.

“Somethin’ up, Vyv?” She asked, absentmindedly cleaning the spout handles with a wet flannel.

“Just, stuff on my mind, I guess.” He said, brushing it off. 

“Well, I am your mother, for fuck sakes. You can talk to me, you know.” Vyvyan smiled. She was brisk and rough, and for some reason, it was comforting. It was how he knew she was being honest.

“I don’t think you’ll want to talk about it. Can I have another pint?” She shot him a look and he sighed, rolling his eyes. “Please?”

“That’s better.” She said, getting another glass out and filling it. She slid it over to him. “How about if I don’t want to talk about it, I’ll stop you.” Vyvyan shrugged.

“Fine.” He took a swig from his glass as his mum started cleaning the counter. He looked over to her, trying to engage in eye contact, but she was apparently far too focussed on furiously scrubbing a water ring. “Veronica.” She came to a stop, slowly, before sighing and putting her hands on her hips, looking down at the ground.

“Shit.”

“I know.” He said, sliding his finger over the edge of his glass. “Should I stop?” She sighed again before looking up to the ceiling, pursing her lips, obviously in deep thought.

“No. I just- You were, what, four? Five? I didn’t even think you’d remember her.”

“I was eight, so, I do remember. Vividly.” He trailed off. He got a pack of smokes from his leather jacket pocket and took one for himself before holding the pack out. “Want a fag?”

“Already got one for a son.”

“Thanks, Mum. That makes me feel really good.” He said as he watched her take one. It was the first “hard subject” they ever broached; his relationship with Rick. She took it alright, surprisingly, but often made jabs about it. Vyvyan had learned that was her way of accepting things- with low, crass humor. But at least she was able to swallow it. 

Rick and him started living together after the bus crash. They were able to put enough money between them for a flat- Mike and Neil both went their separate ways, and Vyvyan and Rick would have too, if they weren’t so bloody broke. Well, Vyvyan was. Rick just didn’t want to live with his folks. Both of them dropped out of Scumbag after the summer of 83 and spent the next few years renting. Within the first six months, enough unbearable tension had built up between them for Rick to one day, suddenly, straddle him on the couch and start furiously snogging him. Since then, they were “more-than-flatmates”. It wasn’t until last year that Rick started to call them “partners”, and Vyvyan soon caught on. At first, he didn’t want to say it- it felt too committal, but, truthfully, there was no one else he’d rather be committed to. The incident on the couch was three years ago, and they stayed with each other since. It was nice, and that’s all Vyvyan really wanted to say about it to his mum. It was far more than nice, but he wasn’t about to be so soppy in front of her.

She got out her own lighter and lit her cigarette as Vyvyan lit his with his own zippo. They smoked the same way, taking long, first drags, holding in the smoke before lazily blowing it out with an open mouth. Neither smoked quickly- it was always slow, usually used to gather thoughts. Vyvyan pondered that it was interesting, but he doubt his mother noticed. He blew his smoke out to the side. “Do you want to talk about it?” She shrugged.

“S’pose it was bound to be brought up at some point.” She said, sighing. “Why do you bring her up?” She said, putting the cigarette back between her lips and continuing to clean the counter. 

“‘Cause I feel like we ought to. We’re the only ones who really _can_ talk about it.”

“Yeah.” Uncomfortable silence filled the pub. “What do you want to say, then?” Vyvyan took one of his long, thinking drags.

The December of 1971 was bitterly cold. Vyvyan was eight, and it was some of the coldest temperatures he’d experienced up until that point. The day his mother left, it was only slightly above freezing point.

“I’ll be back in a few! Mind Veronica!” His mother said as she left. Vyvyan had come to learn “a few” could mean anything from minutes, to hours, to days. In this case, it would be weeks. Exactly two and a half. Vyvyan wasn’t mad when she would leave. Why should he be? All mothers did this. At least, he assumed. He never asked, since it seemed so normal in his own household. She only just started adding the “Mind Veronica” part.

Veronica was five months old during that December. Vyvyan often marveled at how small she was. They didn’t know who her father was either, but that didn’t matter to him. She was still his sister, and he was still her brother. He remembered when his mother was only a few weeks due. It was the most sober Vyvyan had ever seen her, but he didn’t make the connection that it was because of the alcohol. She sat him down on the couch and he idly pulled stuffing out before getting his hand slapped away.

“Vyvyan! Pay attention! This is serious business.” She said. Vyvyan listened. For the most part, he was an obedient kid. It was after December that everything changed. “Now, Mummy’s gonna have Veronica in just a bit, now. You’re going to be her big brother.”

“I know.” 

“Well, you have a responsibility now. You have to protect her from boys. And be there for her. You have to be by her side, always. You two are going to be partners in crime now, yeah?”

“I don’t even know her, though. And girls are gross. Girls can’t be my partner in crime.” His mother sighed. 

“Don’t be so sexist, Vyvyan! Besides, Veronica is going to be different, because she’s your sister. You have to teach her about the world and keep her safe. When I’m gone, you two are going to be all you have. So you have to form those bonds now. Promise me you’ll keep her safe?” She held out her pinkie to Vyvyan. It was their special agreement. If a pinkie promise was broken, she always warned Vyvyan she’d cut his finger off. Vyvyan inspected her held out hand.

“Can I teach her how to fight? That’ll protect her.”

“When she’s old enough.” She agreed. Vyvyan took her pinkie with his.

“Then I promise to keep her safe.” She smiled. Vyvyan would remember it as one of the only times she would ever fondly smile at him during his childhood.

“Good lad.”

“Can I go listen to the radio now?” She smacked him upside the head before rolling her eyes and sending him on his way.

At first, Vyvyan hated Veronica. She was loud, and slobbery, and always had on dumb hats, probably because she was nearly bald underneath, save for some wispy hairs the same color as their mother’s. She screamed a lot and he wasn’t even allowed to hold her or anything. They kept her crib in the living room, seeing as they had nowhere else to put it. Vyvyan wasn’t happy about it- the living room was his bedroom. He slept on the couch and was not excited to be woken up every few hours to crying. But, sometimes, Vyvyan would wake up and she wouldn’t be crying. Just sleeping. He often spent those silent moments looking at her. She was so incredibly small, it was hilarious. How this tiny, little thing was going to grow into a real person was beyond Vyvyan. There was one point, however, when she was two months old, when she wasn’t crying or anything. His mum was out doing whatever, and now, Vyvyan thought, they could have their first, real, sibling bonding moment.

“Hi Veronica.” Veronica cooed and stared up at him with big, electric blue eyes. “I’m Vyvyan. We both have V names! I guess Mum likes ‘em.” Veronica continued to coo. “I’m your big brother! I’m eight. And you’re two months old. And you’re very, very small. Mum said I have to protect you from boys.” Veronica put her fingers in her mouth. “I don’t know why you’d need protection, though. You’re kind of ugly.” Veronica giggled, and Vyvyan laughed back. “I can teach you how to fight and stuff! We can fight boys and girls, cos girls are kind of gross. And you’ll probably think boys are gross. That’s okay.” Veronica made a weird giggle-spit combo with a small gurgling. “Ew. Girls really are gross. But we’ll fight them off when you’re older.” He put his hand inside the crib, holding onto one of Veronica’s abnormally tiny hands and swung it gently. “We’re gonna be the coolest siblings ever. Everyone will have to watch out for us, that’s for sure!” Veronica made one final gurgle before shutting her eyes. Vyvyan smiled. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having a little sister.

However, it was at that two month point that their mother started to get jaded with children. She got back in her habits. She got back into drinking more heavily, and going out to pubs, staying nights over at other men’s houses. She always left a fiver for Vyvyan and milk for two days with Veronica, because that was usually how long she was gone. Until it wasn’t two days.

Be back in a few. Mind Veronica. She left the fiver on the table, and Vyvyan knew milk was in the fridge. Day one passed normally. He spent it listening to the radio, sitting Veronica on the couch next to him and trying to pick up pirate stations. She mostly slept. If there was one thing Veronica was good at, it was sleeping. He fed her occasionally, when she woke up and started crying. He really didn’t know what else she would be crying about. His mother just told him if she started crying, give her the bottle, so that’s what he did. He had to learn on his own that babies needed to be burped and needed to get changed and held and coddled. It was an absolutely foreign concept, but he made an effort.

Day two passed just as usual. They were about halfway through Veronica’s milk supplies, maybe a little more. Vyvyan hadn’t spent his fiver yet. Instead, he ate a package of bread he found in the pantry and pocketed the money for himself. Besides, his mum would be back by tomorrow, so there was no real reason for worry. Veronica drank her milk until half a bottle was left before falling asleep for the night. Vyvyan gently put her in the crib before falling asleep on the couch, hoping it wasn’t too cold for her.

When the third day came and passed and his mum still wasn’t home, Vyvyan started to worry. Only a little, because boys weren’t supposed to get worried. That’s what his mum always told him. The house was starting to get a chill through it, and Veronica would cry more often. He tried to ration the half-bottle they had left, but by the end of the day, it was gone. That was really when Vyvyan started to worry.

It was on the fourth day when Vyvyan got desperate to feed Veronica. He tried to put her against his chest like he had seen his mother do, but it really hurt and didn’t do anything when she sucked on his nipple. Vyvyan determined babies were extremely weird and he was never going to do that again. He found a small pint of creamer in the fridge, which he filled the bottle with. Veronica sucked it down eagerly, only to spit it up an hour later. He fell asleep that night to Veronica crying.

On the fifth day, Vyvyan used the fiver to get a jug of milk at the shops. When he got home, Veronica was still crying, but he got the milk in her bottle, and for a little bit, it was quiet. It was calm. They listened to BBC, seeing if there was any news on a possible car crash or accident. He was really worried about his mum, but even more worried for Veronica and him. But he made a promise to always look after her and keep her safe- his mum was right. He had a responsibility now, and he had to fulfill it.

Day six was when the power went out. Vyvyan didn’t know why (he’d later learn his mum often dodged rent), but when he tried to get the lights on, they wouldn’t work, and neither did the radio. He wasn’t too concerned until he went to the fridge to get Veronica her milk and discovered that it wasn’t working either. That night, the house was freezing. He bundled up on the couch with three blankets before bringing Veronica into the warmth with him. He didn’t sleep.

The milk spoiled on day nine. Veronica stopped having the energy to cry on day ten. Vyvyan had no way to contact his mum, and he couldn’t call the police. His mum always said the pigs would never help people like them. He didn’t know what that meant necessarily, but he didn’t do it. He hadn’t eaten or drank much. He mostly relied on things in the pantry. This was the time he discovered when there wasn’t any milk, ketchup could work in a pinch for Cornflakes. He tried giving Veronica some ketchup, but she rejected it and got spit up all over the couch. He moved them into their mother’s bedroom and took up residence there. If she wasn’t going to be home, might as well make use of the bed. It was the coldest night. Vyvyan couldn’t sleep.

On day eleven, Veronica wouldn’t cry, but revert to pained wheezing and gurgling. Vyvyan never let her go from his arms. They spent the day in their mother’s bed- Vyvyan figured if they didn’t move, they didn’t use energy, and they wouldn’t need to eat. They couldn’t eat much anyway- the pantry was practically gone, Veronica had no milk left, and with everything that was in the fridge now spoiled, there was nothing. The only sounds between them on that day was Veronica’s wheezing, the rumble of their stomachs, and Vyvyan desperately trying to keep the tears from falling out of his eyes. He was unsuccessful. 

At exactly two weeks, Vyvyan woke up to a smell he would never be able to erase from his memory. It was putrid and invading his nostrils. He looked down at Veronica, in his arms, but still. She had been quiet for the past few days, but now, she was simply still. She was cold, pale looking. But the smell couldn’t have been coming from her. Veronica always smelled good, especially the top of her head. She couldn’t be this cold- Vyvyan had been holding her the whole night. He sat up in bed, turning her over. Her little hands and feet that never seemed to stop moving were motionless. He got on his knees and tried to sit her up.

“Veronica. Veronica, wake up.” He said, quietly, softly. He took her hands in his and tried to lift them. “C’mon Veronica. Mum’ll be home soon. Wake up. Mum loves you and she wants to see you when she comes home. Wake up Veronica.” He continued to say, his breath starting to hitch as tears began to well in his eyes. He held out his finger to her- she liked to grab it. Maybe she would. When she didn’t, the first tear flowed down his cheek. “Veronica, please! Please, I promised Mum I’d protect you! Veronica!” He shouted. He picked her up, supporting her head and looking down at her. Her blue eyes, usually electric with life, were nearly as pale as the rest of her. He felt himself start to shake as more tears flowed down his face. “I promised.” He whispered, his voice cracking as he brought her up to him. He held her close until he couldn’t stomach the smell anymore before putting her back down on the bed. He set her on the duvet, then went into the living room to take one of his blankets from the couch. He went back into their mother’s room, swaddling her in the blanket, then getting out, shutting the door behind him.

That was when his screaming started. He screamed, barbarically yawped, sobbed, god, the sobbing. He sobbed until he couldn’t anymore and screamed until his voice went hoarse, and then more. When the surrounding neighbors called about a noise complaint, the police came, busting down the door after no response. They found him in the middle of the floor with tear stained cheeks, clutching onto Veronica’s baby blanket, screaming. He was utterly hysterical, and the police coming only made it worse. An ambulance was called for both Veronica and Vyvyan. Vyvyan never found out what happened to her. But he did know that they didn’t even have a place where she was buried, or a place to visit in her memory. Vyvyan was put into the system. Foster home after foster home he went. He was enrolled in school for the first time as well. That was when he stopped being the obedient boy his mum knew him as. That was when he lost hope. It took him years to rebuild it.

“Vyv. Hey. What do you wanna talk about with Veronica?” His mum said, snapping her fingers in front of his face. He got out of his space to look over to his mother. 

“Did you leave us there to die?”

“Christ, Vyvyan, that’s rather blunt.”

“I woke up next to my dead sister, Mum. Forgive me for abandoning formalities.” He took another drag from his cigarette. “Just seems like the only logical conclusion for leaving an eight year old and his five month old sister alone for two weeks.” 

“What are you hoping you'll get from this?”

“Validation. Resolution, maybe. Closure for Veronica.” He took a moment to take another drag. “When you left us, did you mean for us to die?”

“No, Vyvyan, of course not!” She said, placing her palms flat on the counter and staring at her son. “I never meant for that to happen.”

“Then why did you let it?”

“I-” She paused. “Vyv, I was a very different person back then. When I drinking-”

“Mum. Do not blame this on you being drunk.”

“Why are you making this more difficult than it needs to be?! You know, you didn't just lose a sister that day!” She snapped. She took a breath before turning around, putting her back to Vyvyan, holding herself in her arms. “I lost a daughter, too.” She said quietly. They sat in silence. Vyvyan put out his cigarette in the ashtray before his mother turned around and did the same. “I don’t have an excuse for myself, okay? I fucked up.”

“Yeah. You did. You really fucked up.” He sighed. Without the cigarette to help him gather his thoughts, it made it harder. “I... I brought up Veronica because- Y’know, okay, Rick wants kids, or something. He talks about it on occasion. And I think we need to deliberate on it more, but more likely than not, we’ll probably find a surrogate and have one within the next few years, I imagine.”

“Congratulations.”

“I just want you to know that I’m going to do everything in my power to not be the parent you were. But I suppose that's not a very high bar to aim for.”

“You’re being a real twat about this. I don’t know what I can say to you to make it better, Vyv. It was fourteen years ago-”

“Fifteen.”

“What?”

“Fifteen years ago. It’s been six months since her birthday should have been, so last month was... Y’know.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, Vyvyan! It’s time to move on, alright? You can’t keep living in the past about this.”

“I’m not living in the past, Mum! I spent too much of my life feeling an utterly, crushing guilt for what happened. You made me promise to take care of her, and you put me in a position where I couldn’t do that. It shouldn’t have even been my job to take care of her! That was yours! But I blamed myself far more than I ever blamed you. So, I... I just want to get closure. Today.”

“Well, I’ve moved on. I don’t think about her anymore. You should do the same.” She went cold. 

“That’s not moving on.” He said after a few moments of pause.

“What would you know about it? You don’t know how I work.” Vyvyan anxiously ran a hand through his hair.

“That’s why I’ve been coming to this stupid, bloody pub for the past two months! I want to know how you work! I want to have a relationship with you!”

“If this is the kind of shit I’m gonna be putting up with, maybe I don’t want a relationship with you.” She said, her arms crossed and an icy look in her eyes. The worst part was that Vyvyan could tell she was being absolutely truthful. He sat back in his chair, staring down at the counter, letting the words sink in. He slowly nodded his head.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. You don’t want a relationship. That’s fine.” He got out of his chair, sliding his barely touched pint over to her side of the counter. He got out his wallet and pulled out a few notes, then a few more for a tip. “I imagine this is probably going to be the last time we intentionally see each other.” She said nothing, keeping her lips pursed. There was no emotion behind her eyes. She wasn’t going to fight, and Vyvyan could see it. She wasn’t going to say anything either. He sighed, making his way to the door. He put his hand on the handle, but he couldn’t stop himself from looking back. “Goodbye.” He called out. It echoed slightly along the empty walls. He opened the door, and walked out of the pub. He waited until he was in his car to let the tears fall out of his eyes.

“Goodbye, Vyv.” She said to the empty pub, long after he’d left. She wasn’t going to cry. She was good at not letting these things get to her. Just another Thursday. That’s what she told herself. She got back to cleaning the counters before the regular crowd came in.

**Author's Note:**

> Second fic on the archive and it's sad as hell. nice.
> 
> On a serious note, writing this was really cathartic, in a way. To say I enjoyed writing it is the wrong word, but there was a definite sense of expelling emotion through it.  
> I do think what was most fulfilling about writing this was that neither Vyvyan nor his mother is necessarily "right" about this topic. Vyvyan's mom is definitely handling it worse, I think, without really expressing and coming to terms with her daughter's death, but Vyvyan has little idiosyncrasies that make it hard for him to move on as well. They're both trying to mourn in their own way- Vyvyan thought they could do it together, but that obviously wasn't in his mother's plan.
> 
> I really hate to sound too pretentious about this, but I think just overall, it was a good thing to write. Maybe just for my own sake.
> 
> Also, if you haven't heard the song "Veronica", here's the link: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cL0ZD0edQvg  
> It sounds kinda upbeat but like. Man if you listen to it it's sad.  
> Anyway, thank you for reading, commenting and kudo'ing. Each bit means a lot!


End file.
